Not the Rebound Guy by Abby Knox (popular books of all time .txt) 📗

breathlessly, cupping his face for a kiss on the slow downstroke. The upward stroke is so strong I tumble against his chest and have to throw my arms around his shoulders to hang on.

I feel his breath in my hair as he tells me, “I was just in a hurry to get inside you. I ain’t in no hurry to get out.”

Oh my god. Who…who says things like that? I think I just drooled on his shoulder a little.

He’s trying to make me fall for him. He’s succeeding.

How could I not fall for someone who does everything he does? And on top of all that, he looks at me like I’m a fucking queen of the universe.

It’s almost not fair. He’s too good.

And yet, I can’t stop. Garrett feels too good buried deep inside me because it’s not just his body. His sweet soul is marking me. He’s connected with me.

His hands and his attention wake something up inside me. This is more than fucking, and we both know it. He’s wooing me. Courting me. Showing me how he’d fuck me if I were his completely.

Good god, the man raises farm animals yet doesn’t know what it means to have a quick fuck?

I don’t know how long we’ve been on this ride, but I’ll say this for him. He’s got stamina. So much I don’t know how much more I can take.

Grasping his shoulders and I whisper in his ear. “I need you to call me a slut.”

His brow furrows together, and he kisses me. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”

“It’s just dirty talk. Trust me.”

Darkness clouds his eyes when he gets what I mean. “He grips my chin and whispers roughly in my ear. Of course, Garrett is such a pure soul it takes a few stammering stops and starts, but he gets there. “My slut. Are you a slut for my cock?”

His words and his breath in my ear make me gush.

He feels the fresh wave of heat.

I reach down in between us and begin to stroke my clit.

“Hold on there, missy, that’s my job.”

“You asked for it,” I say, holding on to his chest.

I arch against him and moan out the first wave of my orgasm. “There she is. There’s my girl.”

It’s so good I don’t even care he’s using that kind of language. Claiming me. Calling me his girl.

Maybe I am his. Perhaps he’s ruined me for anyone else, and this is it for me.

My pussy clamps down hard and tight, and his orgasm hits him like a truck. The man curses like a goddamn farmhand. “Holy shit. Oh my fuck. Wh—I—Eliza—fucckk…”

Oddly he keeps it inside of me when he’s finished, watching me shudder through wave after wave of relief. Kissing me through all my moans and gibberish.

And, oh god, he kisses me all over my face. I’ve never been worshiped like this before. I expect him to pull out, go clean up, toss the condom, and hop in the shower.

He’s just there, still inside, me, between my legs, his face resting between my breasts, catching his breath.

Still, he kisses me. He kisses my breasts, my arms, and then takes my fingers in his, brushing his lips against the back of my hand.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Of course,” I say.

“Stay right here,” he says, gently lifting me off like I weigh nothing and setting me down on the couch.

He runs off and returns with a warm, wet towel and a glass of water.

“The showers are still being worked on, but I had some bottled water in the fridge.”

He’s warmed up the towel between his hands and I take it from him.

We share the water, wrapped up cozily together.

“You’re a mystery, Garrett.”

“I think I’m pretty straightforward.”

“You know you are. I thought we were just messing around, but you gave me, like, 100 percent. That was honeymoon sex. Not I’m-helping-you-get-over-your-ex sex.”

“I don’t half-ass anything,” he says. “Once I’m in, I’m in.”

I try not to spit out my water all over him. “Good thing we didn’t have sex in Gram’s house because you’re loud.”

“I’m not loud. I’m the least loud person I know.”

I lean back and catch the twinkle in his eye. “Did you witness your own orgasm? Because that was loud. And you cursed.”

He scoffs, “I don’t curse.”

“Wow, you’re also a liar,” I laugh.

His smirk is too charming. My body is in danger of making him go another round.

“I should really go to bed. Gotta get up early and help Grams make jam,” I say.

“Can’t sleep on Grams’ jams.”

“Oh my god, get away from me.” I start to pull away, and he grabs my arm playfully.

“What, you don’t like a rhyme? We have such a fun time.”

I stand up and take the blanket with me. “Good night, Garrett.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you home.”

“We’re going to the same place.”

“Same house, yes. But I’d prefer it if we were staying in the same bed.”

“Grams wouldn’t like that,” I say.

“Don’t be so sure. Your grams seems awfully determined to push us together.”

“True that.”

He holds my hand as we drag our rumpled selves over to Grams’ house and sneak inside, as sneakily as we can, with a dog waiting for us on the porch.

All is quiet, and I listen for Grams at her bedroom door.

When we reach the bathroom, I tell him I’m going to have a shower and go to bed.

“I can’t wait for an empty house so we can shower together,” he says, nibbling my earlobe.

Heat flashes across my skin, and I know I’d like that too. “Um…”

He kisses me softly and tenderly. Just moments ago, he was nearly splitting me in two, and right at this moment, I might be a fragile china doll. “

“G’night, Garrett.”

My body is sore as I wash, but already my skin misses him. The welcome twinge between my legs reminds me of the physical, but it’s nothing compared to how the man has rearranged my feelings. His intensity makes a mockery of what a rebound is supposed to be.

He’s cracked me right open.

I tell myself